Emily's Last Goodbye
by FashionableRaid
Summary: CHARACTER DEATH! I only wrote this oneshot because I am trying to get out of my comfort zone and write something i would NEVER normally write, also Paget's departure from CM has left me devastated! :


**Emily's Last Goodbye**

A/N: Okay this is a one shot based off three things: 1) I'm trying to write out of my comfort zone THIS IS A CHARACTER DEATH ficlet, not something I'm great at; 2) I had a nightmare about this not 2 days ago and it won't get out of my head! 3) I've been super depressed lately…

A/N: Yes it is slightly OOC because I don't think Emily would really do any of this… She's much stronger than most of us.

1234567

Emily looked down at the bottle in her hand. Little white pills; so tiny, but together a bottle of painless death.

She took a shuddering breath. She didn't know any other way. Therapy did nothing, the pills helped but left her feeling numb, empty. It didn't help to talk about it. No one would ever understand her side of the story. It would never be "okay" that she'd loved Ian Doyle. She would never _**not**_ feel guilty about his death.

Her mind flashed vivid pictures of her friends, her family. They'd all gone back to their lives, thinking she would be alright. But she wasn't. Everyone was going back to normal, but she felt like she was just watching. She was out of step and she couldn't figure out how to get back.

She looked at the piece of paper on her nightstand. It was her last goodbye. She thought about all the people she would hurt. She felt selfish, more guilty than she already did. This only added to her misery. She thought of Hotch, she couldn't understand how he managed to live after Haley, but he had Jack. She didn't have anyone. Declan had his adopted father, Tom, his friends, and a future that she wasn't a part of.

She thought of Spencer, how devastated he would be. She didn't want him to start using Dilaudid again. But, he would have JJ to lean on. Morgan, she blinked back tears that burned the corners of her eyes, Morgan would be angry, hurt, blame himself… She didn't want to hurt anyone. But she honestly didn't think she could take anymore…

Slowly she dumped the bottle of Ativan into her hand. 60 pills, 1 miligram a piece… More than enough to send her away in peaceful bliss… She popped a shaky handful into her mouth and took a swig of Jameson from the bottle on the bed. The burn was instant and the name had Ian written all over it, more than the taste. She could still remember her days as Lauren Reynolds spending days in bed with him, kissing him; she could always taste the faint taste of whiskey, even when he wasn't drinking.

She knew that the nightmares would never stop. She lied when she'd told her therapist she'd been sleeping. She couldn't remember the last time she _**truly**_slept… Everyone assumed her nightmares were of Ian and that night at the warehouse. They were wrong. She'd never been afraid of him killing her, she'd expected it. She'd expected it from the day she'd taken those photo's of Declan, that one day he WOULD come for her…

No her nightmares were about other things, her job, her life or lack there of, that night at the airstrip. Watching Ian die in front of his son. Knowing she couldn't have done anything. Nightmares about what if Chloe had not aimed correctly, and hit Declan? What if she never got over this?

She knew she couldn't live like this. So that left her one option. Not to live anymore. Time to put the candle out, her wick was burned to the bottom.

She felt so tired, she knew sleep would come soon. Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead. Heavy, she closed them, clutching her pillow to her chest, she laid back on the bed, it was instant she could feel the effects of the pills and the alcohol. She shakily dumped the rest of the little pills into her hand and back down her throat. She could feel her movements become sluggish and chugged some more whiskey to chase her imminent death. She felt some of the amber liquid fall from her lips and felt the bottle grow heavy in her hand.

She laid down, resting her head on the pillow, curled in the fetal position clutching her pillow closing her eyes for the last time. The note on her nightstand, with the gold ring she'd desperately tried to flush resting on top of it, was the last thing she saw and with a tired whisper and a lone tear she whispered, "I'm sorry…"

And just like that her world went white, and Emily Prentiss was gone.


End file.
